


Crooked Stems

by Interrobang



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Chef Jesse McCree, Florist Hanzo Shimada, Gay Disaster Hanzo Shimada, M/M, Meddling Friends, Minor Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Hana "D.Va" Song, Oral Sex, Strippers & Strip Clubs, brothers being brothers, the only strip club au in which neither of them is actually a stripper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18470995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang
Summary: Hanzo had made a life for himself, and quite frankly he was content with it. He was almost 40. He was tired from a youth spent in too many family meetings about too many political escapades. He just wanted to sit in a cold room with thousands of dollars’ worth of flowers and watch his florist business flourish.He didn’t need anything shaking that up.--AKA the only Strip Club AU in the world in which neither of the main characters is actually a stripper. Featuring Chef Jesse McCree, Florist Hanzo, and too many innuendos.First chapter rated T. Second chapter contains NSFW content.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most absurd thing I've ever written. BUT it did give me a chance to grill my friend-- a former dancer-- about what it was like working in an actual strip club. And then it also gave me a chance to ask my OTHER friend-- who currently works as a florist's assistant-- about what kind of hot goss she's witnessed while working at a flower shop. 
> 
> The world is full of amazing people.

Hanzo was very proud of his business. He had grown it — pun intended — from the ground up with the help of a few friends. With the knowledge of business ownership he had received from his time as his mother’s right hand man, his own enthusiasm for botany, and his meticulous eye for color and arrangement, he was one of the premiere florists in the area. It helped that he was on the edge of a small city, where there were ample opportunities for events and contracts. 

The money from his inheritance had served him quite well indeed, allowing him to buy the shop outright, the starter flowers he would need, and an apartment that was literally within walking distance of the farmer’s market. His competition and his suppliers both knew him very well and each enjoyed a healthy level of his respect- the former with keeping their businesses running for far longer than he had, the latter for being able to supply for yet another florist in the area.

He had made a life for himself, and quite frankly he was content with it. He was almost 40. He was  _ tired  _ from a youth spent in too many family meetings about too many political escapades. He just wanted to sit in a cold room with thousands of dollars’ worth of flowers and watch his business flourish in a literal sense. 

He didn’t need anything shaking that up.

But of course, if he wanted to keep expanding, he’d have to find new ways to bring in revenue. People were picky. And — if he was being honest — negotiating what a bouquet or corsage should have on it with a client that didn’t know a daisy from a pot of chamomile was exhausting. If Hanzo could streamline his business to include bigger, more consistent clients... perhaps he wouldn’t have to rely on those fussy know-it-alls as much.

“Hanzo!” Genji entered the shop with a flourish, jangling the bells over the door roughly as he did so. “I have a job for you!”

“If it’s another gender reveal party, I’m no longer taking orders for heterosexual nonsense,” Hanzo said flatly. He continued to wipe down his work station while Genji made his way around the counter, finally setting down his washrag when his brother slung an arm around his shoulders.

“No, Brother, it’s something better,” Genji said with a glint in his eye. “ _ Much  _ better. A consistent, high-paying job — with an extra  _ super high-paying project  _ on top of it. If you want it.”

Hanzo squinted at him dubiously. The last time Genji had mentioned something like this, the “high paying job” had been both embarrassing and illegal. “What is it?”

A contract. At my job. They have a big event coming up —”

“You work at a strip club,” Hanzo said with a curl of his lip. “What kind of work could they possibly —”

“Technically it’s listed as a gentlemen’s lounge, but yes,” Genji said, cutting Hanzo off before he could get too derisive. “Which you’d  _ know,”  _ he said meaningfully, “If you ever visited me there.”

“It is a place of debauchery, is what it is,” Hanzo said with a sniff. “Besides, I do not think they cater to people like me.”

“What, gay hermits that only have lizards to keep them company at home? Come on, you can’t even snuggle with them, Hanzo! How do you keep warm at night?”

“I have an electric blanket,” Hanzo said loftily. “And Momo is perfectly capable of cuddling. She falls asleep on me all the time.”

Genji looked at Hanzo with pity. “That’s not cuddling, Hanzo. She’s just using you for your body.”

“What, and your dancers wouldn’t?”

Genji huffed. “Gibraltar isn’t a  _ strip club,  _ Hanzo. It’s a...a burlesque hall. It’s classy as fuck. They have like...actual sit-down meal service, free wifi, a  _ nice  _ bar instead of trashy pool hall shit, and the dancers — who are lovely ladies, by the way — are  _ artsy.  _ One of them even knows how to perform on aerial silks.”

Hanzo paused, mulling over thoughts.

“Then...what is the job?”

Genji grinned, sensing he’d won. “They need flower arrangements. Both for the club itself and for a larger event coming up. They’re having some kind of party in a few months.” As he spoke, he rolled his wrist around with his free hand and looking up at the ceiling. “I’m just the MC, so I’m not exactly privy to all the details, but apparently they need a  _ lot  _ of flowers. I told them I knew a guy.”

“That was kind of you,” Hanzo said. 

“What can I say? I’m a good brother.” Genji squeezed Hanzo once and then ruffled his hair, which Hanzo hastily tried to straighten, scowling the whole time. “Clean yourself up a little and come with me now — bossman said he can see you before they start getting busy with the day, maybe discuss some stuff?”

Hanzo pinched his nose, sighing deeply. “It’s ten in the morning. I have no one to watch the shop —”

“ _ Annyeong _ ! Sorry I’m late!” Hana popped her head around the corner, popping her bubblegum as she gave a two-finger salute hello. “Heya, Greenman! You helping out today?”

“Nah,” Genji said with a grin. “I’m taking  _ your  _ bossman to see  _ my  _ bossman. We have capital-B Business to attend to.”

“Ha!” Hana laughed as she tied her blue “Snapdragon Florists” apron around around her waist. “Finally. I’m tired of making corsages all the time. I want a challenge!”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “You are barely qualified to design a flower girl’s basket at the moment, Miss Song. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Only because you haven’t trained me,” Hana said with a pout. “All you do all day is fool around with that broken website you built.”

“It’ll run eventually,” Genji assured her. “But  _ we’ve  _ got to run  _ now _ . C’mon, Hanzo, your future awaits!”

—

Gibraltar looked like a regular Victorian-era house from the outside, albeit one set on the edge of a metropolis. It had a charming little front full of eaves and intricate trim, with mature trees and excellent landscaping around it. Yet it was large — much larger than a residential building would be — and somewhat daunting when Hanzo walked up to it.

“Here we go!” Genji said cheerfully. He gestured at the door. “Go on in.”

“Absolutely not,” Hanzo said, balking. “This doesn’t just look like a club. This looks like a  _ bordello _ , Genji.”

Genji snorted and rolled his eyes. “It’s bigger on the inside. C’mon.”

True to his word, the interior  _ was  _ more spacious. There was a little foyer when they opened the door that held a greeter’s kiosk — currently occupied by an imposing woman with sharply-styled pink hair — along with a coat check. Through the second door was a completely different world. From the outside, the building had appeared to be three floors of classic New England architecture. From the inside?

Brilliance.

Literally. Hanzo’s face was aglow with bright lights and neon as he walked past the stages, eyes drawn to the avant garde art on the walls and the modern bar set against one wall.

Genji pointed to the far end of the building where a DJ station was set up. “That’s my station over there. They let me keep my equipment here overnight and everything. Cool, right?”

Hanzo nodded absently, gaping at everything around him. There were women of every shape and size walking around either in robes or in full stage garb. Some were barefoot, padding along on the wood floor. A few held plates of food in their hands, eating ravenously before the club opened to the public. There were sequins and glitter  _ everywhere.  _

“ _ This _ is where you work?” Hanzo asked breathlessly. There was a wall with a projection on the screen — a music video of some sort. And along the walls were several booths, tables set presumably so that people could order a drink or dinner while enjoying themselves. 

“Yeah.” Genji threw a sly grin over at Hanzo. “And wait til you meet the guys that run this place.”

He led Hanzo through yet another door, past the entrance to the bustling kitchen and up a flight of stairs to what seemed like a regular hallway. There were four doors lining the hall, two on each side. One the left, two doors labeled LOCKER ROOM in blocky text, male and female respectively. On the right was a storage closet, presently cracked open with a roll of toilet paper trailing out of it and back down the stairs.

And at the end of the hall...an office. Genji led Hanzo there, past the doors with their clamor of hair dryers and high heels, and back into a surprisingly classy little room. There was a big desk with a number of filing cabinets behind it, several monitors — some displaying camera views of the room below — and a large man who looked totally at ease in his work space. 

“Hey, Gabe,” Genji said. Hanzo wasn’t sure, but he sounded a touch nervous. “This is the guy I told you about. My brother. The florist.” 

“Hey!” Gabe stood up from his chair with practiced ease and held out his hand for Hanzo to shake. “Glad you could come. You would not  _ believe  _ how hard it is to find quality help on the flower front.”

“Glad I could help,” Hanzo said, trying not to sound too strangled as he shook the man’s hand. Was  _ everyone  _ here supposed to overwhelmingly attractive? He’d thought it would just be the dancers. 

“Genji says you have your own business. Does that include your own event staff, capacity for bulk orders, or…?”

“Yes,” Hanzo said, relieved to drop back into business mode. “I have a small staff that help me assemble large orders and contacts with local and nationwide farms that supply me with quality blooms of all species. I can create custom work if given specifics, but I prefer to  —”

“Woah, slow down!” said a voice at the door. Hanzo glanced over. Another man — this one silver-haired, tall, and build like a brick shithouse — stepped in. “We just met. At least let us buy you a drink before we get our hands dirty.”

“Jack’s right,” said the first man. “Introductions first. I’m Gabe.” He jerked a thumb in Jack’s direction. “Been married to this schmuck for 20 years. Opened this place, oh...five years ago?” Jack nodded. “Yeah. Been growing ever since.”

“We pride ourselves on quality entertainment,” Jack continued. He stared at Hanzo’s face. He must have had some expression of horror — or maybe sheer inexperience — because Jack’s expression softened. “We cater to all sorts, but we try to keep it classy. We have a full bar, a decent restaurant, and specialized entertainment.”

“I see,” Hanzo choked out. 

Jack stared at him critically. “Do you know what it takes to be performer here?” he asked sharply.

“No…” Hanzo admitted.

“Formal dance training. Incredible stamina. An ability to put up with  _ ridiculous  _ bullshit, and smile through every last scrap of it.” Jack’s mouth was firm when he looked Hanzo over. “It’s hard work. The people we keep on staff are respectable people. Some have families to support. Some are students. Some just do this for fun and a little extra side cash. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” Hanzo said in a rush. “I didn’t even know you were here until today. I-I did not mean to offend — I was only — I’ve been building my own business for years, so —”

“Then you understand,” Gabe finished for him. “That will suffice. Chill out, will ya, Jack? The man’s here to sell us flowers.”

Relieved to no longer be under the men’s critical gazes, Hanzo let his shoulders inch down from where they’d been knotted under his ears. He took a deep breath and absently adjusted his coat.

“What kind of event are you looking to order for?”

“A big one,” Jack said with a glint in his eye. “A fundraiser. We’re not entirely sure how many types of displays we’ll need, but there  _ will  _ be several. Some will be...unusual.”

“Okay,” Hanzo said evenly. “When is it?”

“Three months.” Gabe’s face took on an earnest look. “Is that long enough to get everything together? We don’t want to rush you.”

“Depending on the scale of the order,” Hanzo said with a nod. “It may be enough time, though I will likely have to take on some extra help if it requires complex assembly.”

“We can help with that,” Jack cut in, glancing at his partner. Gabe nodded. “We have some part-time staff that you could probably borrow.”

“Then…” As Hanzo looked at the two men staring at him so eagerly, he felt his doubts about Genji’s job melt away. “Shall we get down to business?”

—

“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Hana teased. She threw him an encouraging smile. “Something good happen today? Did you meet Genji’s  _ bossman _ ?”

“Both of them,” Hanzo confirmed. He sighed and swept his limp hair out of his face before he tucked on his work gloves and rolled up his sleeves. It had taken a full hour of discussions about the party’s needs and expectations before they’d even started working up a list of design options, prices, and a contract. Another three hours of talks left Hanzo exhausted by the time he got back to his little shop.

“Well, that bride came by and picked up all her arrangements,” Hana said cheerfully as she hopped up on the counter next to where Hanzo was working. “Tried to bitch me out about the flowers not  _ smelling sweet enough  _ or something. I told her that if she wanted me to add some scent I’d do it. Went in the back and brought out the misting bottle.” 

“The one we keep to wash the windows?”

“Yeah,” Hana said with a grin. “Full of nothing but watered-down cider vinegar. I misted her flowers a little and she said they smelled way better after. She was  _ mega  _ pleased. Left me a huge tip.”

Hanzo laughed. “And that’s why you have such a ... _ hearty _ lunch today.”

“Hey! No hate,” she said, gently nudging him with one boot. “The Brazilian place down the street has amaaaazing churrasco. Big plates of meat, a hot delivery boy,  _ and  _ decent prices? How could I resist?”

“It smells good,” Hanzo admitted. He was still too riled up to eat, but the heavily spiced and charred meat did smell inviting. “We have a lot of work ahead of us, Miss Song. A new project from a local business. We have a few sample designs to arrange first, but much larger arrangements after.  I’ll order the materials this week — but next week I expect to get your wages’ worth out of you.”

“Yes, Sir!” Hana said with a little salute. 

Hanzo worked for awhile while Hana ate her late lunch, occasionally telling Hanzo about the people who had come into the shop while he was gone. They chatted about other things they had to do and Hana’s plans for school while they tidied and finished up orders for the day. It all seemed to be going well, the day winding down, until a few minutes before closing time Hana decided to poke at Hanzo’s love life — or lack thereof.

“You need to get out more, Hanzo,” Hana said with a hand on her hip. “I’m busy with school and my job here, but you —” She pointed accusingly at Hanzo. “— have a stable business and nothing else going on.”

“I have hobbies —” Hanzo started to protest.

“Taking pictures of your lizards wearing handmade costumes doesn’t count,” Hana insisted. “Especially if you only keep them in a private album. You’re not even sharing them! No one believed me about the Tanabata kimono you made for Momo because you don’t even have an Instagram!”

“So what?” Hanzo asked tiredly. “Momo and Kyuri are good companions. My business is doing well. My favorite author just released a new novel, and I just bought a new couch, so my home is very cozy. I am content. Why  _ should  _ I go out?”

“Because otherwise you’re going to turn into a grumpy old man before you’re even forty!” Hana protested. “There’s a whole world of people out there, and you don’t even want to give them a chance!”

Hanzo scoffed, irritation finally setting in. “I treasure your companionship dearly, Miss Song, but I think this is one subject you need to drop.”

“Fine.” Hana drooped. She untied her apron, hanging it up on a hook by the door to the back room. “For now. But I’m keeping an eye on you, Mister. We’re gonna find you someone.”

—

Hanzo brooded over her words his entire drive home. He brooded over them while he ate his dinner (alone), watched TV (alone) and got ready for bed (also alone). As he lay in his comfortable bed, listening to the sound of his empty apartment, he had a moment of weakness. 

Perhaps Hana was right. 

Then he scowled, fluffing his pillow angrily. Who cared if she was right? He was  _ busy.  _ Hadn’t today proved that? He didn’t have  _ time  _ to go out and...what? Prowl around bars? 

All he needed were his flowers.

—

The next time Hanzo set foot in Gibraltar, it was  _ much  _ louder than it had been the first time he’d visited. There had been a different security person at the door — a large, porcine man that was less than chatty. Today Hanzo was armed with an insulated crate full of sample arrangements. He set them down by the stairs, looking around for anyone to talk to. He squinted through the blacklight and strobes, trying to locate someone he could ask about Jack or Gabe’s whereabouts.

The woman manning the bar was furiously cutting up a large bin of limes and lemons. She looked like she would have castrated him if he talked to her wrong, but he mustered up his courage to go see if she knew where the men were. 

Before Hanzo could step too far away from his crate to ask where to find Jack and Gabe, a man poked his head out of the doorway directly next to the stairs. The clang of pots and pans and the hiss of steam escaped around the open door as the man slipped out with a grin, hands on his hips. 

“Hey!” the man exclaimed over the loud music. “You the new guy?”

“Er…” Hanzo hesitated.  _ Was  _ he? “In a manner of speaking. I’m working with Jack and Gabe...”

“Awesome, awesome. I’m Jesse. Head chef here.” He swept his chestnut hair away from his face, then scratched as his wild beard as he looked Hanzo up and down.  “Looks like you have a big package.”

Hanzo balked, heat rushing to his cheeks. Before he could interject, Jesse continued.

“You got that meat for me? I know I put in a hard order, but —”

“ _ I have to go. _ ” Hanzo blurted, rushing away before he could get any more flustered.

He almost tripped over his feet trying to get to the door, but someone caught his sleeve before he could get back into the foyer.

“It’s okay,” a smooth female voice said soothingly. Hanzo turned, heart drumming in his throat, to see a short woman with a purple ombre at his side. She smiled at him comfortingly. Her skin glittered with some kind of shimmer product under the flashing lights.  “You’re here to see the bosses, right? I heard you talking to Mister Foot-In-Mouth-Disease over there. C’mon, you don’t wanna leave your box."

Hanzo gulped, still speechless, and tried to keep his eyes off the expanse of her decolletage.

“Yes,” he finally managed to croak. He kept his eyes studiously in the middle distance. He was too afraid to look back towards the kitchen, where he’d left both his flowers and his dignity. 

“I’m Olivia,” the woman said kindly as she led him back towards the stairs. Luckily the man was gone — though Hanzo’s insulated crate was open, the lid askew. “I run food and drinks on busy nights, so I’m all over the place here.”

“You do not...er...perform?” Hanzo asked asbently as he made sure his stock was still in the crate.

Olivia laughed like Hanzo had made a joke. “If there’s a big event. Sometimes I’ll go in a cage to liven up the party.”

“Oh,” Hanzo said, a little strangled. He packed the lid back on his crate and picked it up. “Olivia is, uh, a tame name for…”

“Yeah, I go by Munchkin Soledad when I dance,” she said seriously. “Good ol’ first-pet-first-street-you-lived-on rule.” After a beat in which Hanzo stared at her in a mix of horror and fascination, she burst into a snorty peal of laughter. “I’m kidding. My stage name is Sombra.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say in response to that, so Hanzo decided to focus entirely on not tripping up the steep, narrow stairs as Olivia led him up to the office. On the way they passed the locker rooms again. This time the hair dryer roar and clack of heels came from...the mens’ room?

At Hanzo’s curious expression, Olivia laughed once more. “It’s Ladies’ Night,” she explained. Her heels clacked on the wood floor as they tromped down the hall. “We do it about once a month. Gotta mix it up every now and then.”

“ _ Oh _ .” Hanzo squeaked. “Does that mean…”

“Banana hammocks? Glitter-dusted pecs you could bury your face in??” Olivia smirked at Hanzo. “ _ Yup _ .”

Hanzo breathed heavily, quickening his steps to the office. His crate suddenly seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

— 

Thankfully the meeting went quickly, with Jack and Gabe oohing and ahhing over the sample arrangements. They had a brief discussion about small adjustments to be made and exactly what that would entail, and Hanzo was able to get out of there before he saw so much as a single sparkling buttcheek.

Still. It was  _ exhausting. _ He couldn’t wait to get home and take some pictures of his girls. That always cheered them up, seeing how lively they were when he gave them special treats. And did he ever have them. 

Genji was waiting for him when he got home from work that night.

“Heard you met Jesse today,” Genji called as Hanzo shut the door behind him.

“I met an  _ asshole _ ,” Hanzo said with a scowl.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Genji insisted. He slurped at what Hanzo could only assume from the smell was a bowl of kimchi stew. Hanzo whipped around.

“Are you eating kimchi-jjigae on my  _ brand new couch?! _ ” He leapt across the living room and slapped at his brother’s head, pushing at Genji until he moved.

“Get off!!” Genji shouted, struggling not to spill his soup as Hanzo hit him repeatedly. “It was in your fridge! You were gonna eat it on the couch anyway! You don’t even have a table to eat at!”

“It’s my couch! I can make a mess on it if I want to.” Hanzo kept slapping and punching at his brother until Genji was a safe distance away from the couch, guarding his soup like it was precious. “How did you even get in?”

Genji shrugged and slurped another bite of soup. “You keep the spare key under that dead potted plant by the door. It’s super obvious.You need a better hiding place, Brother.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “You could always give me a spare. I could hang on to it for you. For safekeeping. Much better.”

“And risk you eating all my ice cream when I’m not here? Absolutely not,” Hanzo said with a shake of his head. He walked back to where he had dropped his bag. “Go home. I brought the girls hibiscus to snack on and I can’t focus on taking pictures with you buzzing around like a mosquito.”

“Hey! Rude,” Genji squawked. 

“Hardly,” Hanzo said with a snort. He stalked into his bedroom, dropping his bag on the floor unceremoniously after fishing out a handful of slightly-squashed flowers. 

As Hanzo cooed and fussed around his two skinks in their enclosures, Genji followed him around, interrupting occasionally or making suggestions for angles to take pictures from. 

“Anyway,” Genji said, as if they hadn’t been talking about completely different things for the last fifteen minutes, “Jesse isn’t a bad guy. He thought you were the butcher.”

“He was still rude. He stared at me.” 

Genji rolled his eyes as Hanzo snapped another pic of Kyuri struggling to eat a large flower petal.

“Probably because he thought you were hot, Hanzo.”

“He did not think I was hot. He thought I was the butcher.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible. Those two things are not mutually exclusive.”

“Why are you telling me this, Genji?” Hanzo said with a sigh.

“Because he said he’d throw in a free steak next time you come by as an apology.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” He started to reconsider his opinion of the untidy cook.

“Yeah. He said you looked like you would appreciate some quality meat.”

“Ugh!” Hanzo threw his hands up in the air. “That’s just another come-on!”

“Only because I told him you were gay!”

“What?!” Hanzo nearly cracked his neck with the speed at which he turned to face his brother. “You did  _ what?”  _

“Well, I saw Liv when I came in to pick up my paycheck, and she said you turned redder than Amelie’s lipstick when she said ‘banana hammock’--” 

“A horrible phrase,” Hanzo muttered.

“And obviously I love and support you, Brother, no hate here, love is love —” 

“Genji, I am going to  _ murder  _ you —”

“So I figured, well, you’re a lonely weirdo, and Jesse’s  _ charismatic  _ weirdo —”

“You idiot,  _ why  _ —”

“And I thought, wow, two weirdos! They’d make a great pair!”

“You are not matchmaking me,” Hanzo said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I refuse.”

“Fine.” Genji shrugged. “But at least take the free steak. Jesse’s a good cook.”

Hanzo grumbled and fussed at his lizards until Genji finally slapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly and left, leaving his dirty dishes on the counter like the nuisance he was.

—

Hanzo tried to put the entire experience out of his mind and focus on his work. It wasn’t hard: he had a bar mitzvah, a quincenera,  _ and _ a wedding to make arrangements for over the course of the next three weeks, so he and Hana were busy every day. The fridges at work were packed from top to bottom, blooms set and tied together every way possible. Hanzo hardly had time to think about the hairy, overly-friendly cook.

He even managed to get his website running smoothly — the web designer had finally gotten back to him about the changes that needed to be made. At last, he was able to take online orders and streamline his process. 

Everything was going swimmingly until the store’s wifi cut out.

And he’d left his keys in the house. 

And apparently Genji had decided to take his own advice and steal Hanzo’s spare key without Hanzo’s approval.

Hanzo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, pulled out his cellphone, and called the culprit.

“Genji.” Hanzo’s voice was a whisper compared to the blaring static coming out of his phone.

“Yeah?!” Genji called over the night. “Hold on, I’m on the floor!”

After some minutes of shuffling around — Hanzo holding his phone away from his ear so he didn’t go deaf — Genji’s voice came through with much less static.

“Alright, I’m away. Stepped into the storage closet for a minute. What’s up, bro?”

“You have my key.” Hanzo took a deep breath, steadying himself for some bullshit.

“Yeah!” Genji laughed. “Thought it might take you a little longer to notice, though. You got locked out?”

“Yes,” Hanzo groaned. “Do you have the key with you?”

“Yeah, it’s on my keyring.”

“Bring it by the shop,” Hanzo grunted. 

“No way!” Genji laughed at him. “I’m working right now. You’re the one with the flexible schedule, Mister Small-Business-Owner.”

“Ugh, fine,” Hanzo growled. He turned down his hallway, swiftly walking towards this apartment’s parking garage.  “I’ll be over soon. But I’m not staying.”

“Whatever, Hanzo,” Genji said flippantly, his voice crackling with laughter through the receiver. “You’re lucky I’m the one that took it and not, like, a hobo looking for a nice soft couch to sleep on.”

“Are you threatening my couch?” Hanzo asked incredulously as he climbed into his car.

“Just come get your key, brother,” Genji said with a reluctant sigh. “I’ve gotta go. Mercy’s starting her routine in a second. I gotta go introduce her.” And with that he hung up.

Hanzo’s drive to Gibraltar was nerve wracking. Considering his experience last time, he was reluctant to set foot in the place again. Sure, the bosses were nice. And yeah, the women hadn’t been nearly as intimidating as he’d expected. But that man —

Hanzo passed the foyer with ease, the pink-haired woman from his first visit waving him through with a curt nod. He passed into the club — still glaringly loud, bass booming from speakers in the ceiling — and looked around. Genji was nowhere to be seen.

“Need some help?” called a voice from the bar. Hanzo turned. It was the same woman from before, this time dressed in some kind of lace onesie with a tiny apron around her waist. 

“Yes!” Hanzo called back. He strode over to the bar. It was a fancy thing — granite and glass, lit from underneath by cool purple lights that made the bartender’s skin glow an ethereal lavender. Hanzo swallowed.

“I’m looking for Genji,” he said over the music. “My shop’s wifi shut off and I can’t get in my house.”

“Sounds confusing!” Olivia said with a nod. She smiled mischievously. “We have free wi-fi, you know. You could always stick around for awhile.”

“Er..” Hanzo floundered. “No, thank you —”

“C’mon, mate,” said a slurring Australian accent. “Good drinks, good food, beautiful ladies…” The man — who Hanzo had first assumed was the hobo Genji’d been referencing — spoke up from his seat a few barstools down. “Sombra’s a good girl. She’ll serve you right.”

“Uh...” Hanzo was truly lost for words now. How did he explain?

“We have an excellent menu,” the bartender said primly. Hanzo looked at her nametag.  _ Amelie _ .

“I’m alright, really —”

“I insist!” Olivia said, grabbing Hanzo by the elbow. “Look, you even brought your laptop with you. Are you working on our party?”

“Yes…” Hanzo said reluctantly as he allowed himself to be led to a corner booth. He was situated  _ behind  _ the speakers, fortunately, so at least the music wasn’t beating right against his eardrums. And his booth was far enough away from the stages and other patrons that he could at least focus on his work and not the glittering cleavage all around him.

“Then stay!” Olivia insisted. “Greenman’ll be back soon. He took his break offsite.”

Left alone, Hanzo got to work. The music was surprisingly easy to adjust to. As the lights dimmed and Hanzo sunk into his groove, he found himself being...unusually productive. It was nice to work somewhere different for a change. It wasn’t often he worked anywhere but his office at the shop or from his bed at home.

An hour into his work on the monthly finances, a shape settled itself opposite him in the booth, accompanied by two steaming plates.

“Howdy,” Jesse said with a stilted smile. “It okay if I sit here?”

Hanzo froze. Oh god. It was  _ him.  _ What did he know?

“Didn’t mean to scare you before,” Jesse said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away from Hanzo’s reddening face. “I thought — well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Liv said you looked like you were about ready to jump out of your skin.” He gestured to the plates in front of him. One held a steak, perfectly seared and just welling a bit of juice around the edges, a mass of mashed potatoes, and some green beans. The other was piled high with neon orange chicken wings.  “I know it ain’t much, but —”

“You were serious about the steak?” Hanzo asked incredulously. He shut his laptop and set it to the side.

“Yeah?” Jesse raised an eyebrow. 

“I thought Genji was just...” Oh, what was the phrase? “Yanking my leg,” Hanzo said, flustered again.

Jesse shrugged and nudged the plate of steak towards Hanzo and shoved the other to the side. “Consider it an apology.” He lifted a glass of what looked like whiskey. “Truce?”

Hanzo lifted his water glass. “Truce. Did you really think I had meat on me, or were you just failing to flirt?”

Jesse laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Bit of both, really. You had the big box, right?” He gestured like he was holding Hanzo’s huge insulated delivery crate. “Our new meat supplier has similar ones. ‘Course, then I opened it up and it was all flowers.”

“And?” Hanzo asked, cutting into his meal. 

“And I’m sorry,” Jesse concluded. “Consider me put in my place. Won’t hit on you like that again.”

“I see.” Hanzo swallowed his bite of steak. It was grilled perfectly, tender and pink on the inside. Why was he so disappointed? “Well...thank you —”

Before Hanzo could finish his sentence, another body dropped into the booth, startling both occupants. 

“Thank  _ fuck _ ,” the glittery blonde woman in front of him said dramatically as she dug into her food. Her feathery costume — including a set of angel wings — took up so much of the circular booth that Jesse had to slide all the way over to sit hip-to-hip with Hanzo.

“Mind the wings, Angela,” Jesse said with a laugh. “People are watching.”

“Oh, please,” the woman said around a mouthful of saucy chicken. “They’re watching my ass, not the vast quantities of chicken going in my — aw, no, I think I got sauce on my wings.”

“Are they not supposed to have sauce on them?” Hanzo asked, mystified by this powerful force of nature.

“No, my  _ wing  _ wings,” Angela said as if explaining something to a child. “They’re going to be all orange now. Give me a napkin!” Hanzo obediently handed one over. “And now I have feathers in my hot wings!” She looked at Jesse pleadingly. “Jesse, help!”

Jesse laughed and made to get out of the booth — opting to push against Hanzo gently instead of displacing Angela. Hanzo scooted out of his seat enough to let Jesse pass. The man was surprisingly firm, for all the bulk his baggy uniform implied. Hanzo tried not to stare at the round ass in his face as the man passed by him.

Before Angela left — platter of hot wings in hand — with Jesse by her side, the cook turned around and threw one last wink in Hanzo’s direction.

“It’s getting to dinner time!” Jesse said as he backed towards the kitchen with Angela. “Enjoy your meal, maybe stay for the show?”

“Right,” Hanzo said, flushed bright red. He sawed at his steak for lack of better things to do with his hands. “Thank you —”

“See you later, darlin’!”

Hanzo watched them go wistfully.

Genji still hadn’t appeared by the time Hanzo had finished his meal, so he pulled his laptop and binders out once more and returned to work, belly blessedly full. Olivia stopped by repeatedly to refill Hanzo’s water and offer other refreshments, most of which Hanzo turned down. 

Come nine pm with  _ still  _ no Genji in sight, and Hanzo was starting to get frustrated. The club had started to fill up as the evening went on — not with men, as Hanzo had anticipated, but with a large number of women, each laughing gleefully as the floor girls walked around taking orders. 

He was listening to a woman in the booth next to him innocently complimenting Sombra’s perky breasts when Genji’s voice came over the loudspeakers.

“Good evening, everybody! Welcome to Gibraltar!”

The crowd cheered.

“To our returning guests, I hope our girls are taking  _ extra  _ special care of you tonight. For our newcomers…” Hanzo was  _ sure  _ Genji was talking about him. “Enjoy the evening’s entertainment. Ladies’ night is about to kick off!”

Hanzo froze, his eyes stuck to the spreadsheet on his screen.

Ladies’ night. No.

He whipped around, searching for the source of Genji’s voice. To his surprise, Genji was in a high booth perched on the second floor, overlooking the floor as a whole. Hanzo glared up at his brother through the dim lights and shining strobes. Genji waved back.

“And a  _ special  _ welcome this evening goes out to my brother, who is joining us tonight because he is a lonely hermit who probably would have died if he didn’t see some skin soon. Say hi, everyone!”

The crowd collectively awwwwed, though a few whistles were interspersed amidst it. Hanzo scowled. He was going to kill Genji and dump his body in the local river.

“And now...on to the show! Let’s welcome  _ Lúcio _ ! This special guest dancer created the very soundtrack he’ll be performing to this evening!”

The crowd cheered, and the bass began to boom. A short black man with long dreads tied up in an elaborate updo strutted out on stage in  _ actual literal roller skates  _ and a somewhat baggy ensemble and began doing a routine to something fast and upbeat. He blew a kiss into the crowd before spinning impossibly fast, rolling his hips and removing his clothing piece by piece.

Hanzo was mortified, and yet unable to look away. His laptop dimmed, then sunk into sleep mode as he stared through the strobe and neon of the club to watch with the rest of the crowd as the man on stage revealed  _ very  _ defined abs and thighs that looked like they could crush a coconut between them given half a thought. 

His trance was only broken when Olivia — now fully in her Sombra persona, dressed up in tall heels and elaborate jewelry over her lace bodysuit— waved a hand in front of his face.

“What?” Hanzo said blankly.

“I said, do you need more water? You look a little thirsty!” Sombra cackled as Hanzo’s teeth clicked from how fast he shut his jaw.

“No!” Hanzo panicked. “I need my keys. I just need to go get them —”

  
“C’mon, Papi,” Sombra cooed, patting Hanzo on the bicep. “Relax a little! At least one more song.”

Hanzo frowned. “What happens in one more —”

Suddenly the music changed as Lucio skated off stage, to be replaced by a soft acoustic.

Sombra grinned and jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen doors. Genji’s voice came over the loudspeakers once more.

“For those of you who need something a little more  _ substantial  _ in your lives, look no further,” Genji purred over the mic. “Up next is a man after my own heart. He’s saucy, he’s sweet, and he’s got the  _ meat _ . It’s all you, Chef!”

The acoustic guitar immediately ramped up into something more rock and roll. As the drums popped and the electric guitar started its grind, the overhead stage lights started making their rounds around the room. First they illuminated the faces of the men and women in the crowd. When they finally flicked and settled in one spot, Hanzo had to fight back a gasp.

It was Jesse. He stood at the entrance to the kitchen in full uniform: chef’s coat buttoned up, long black pants — even a beard net. The only thing that was unusual about his attire were the gold sequined cowboy boots on his feet.

_ Step Inside _

_ Walk this way _

_ You and me babe — hey hey! _

Hanzo sunk down in his seat as Sombra cackled at him, handing him that extra glass of water before sauntering away with an “Enjoy!”

Jesse strutted across the floor in his full outfit, rolling his hips and kicking his heels as he stepped into the spotlight on the stage, working his way around the pole at the end of it. Hanzo watched, equal parts fascinated and mortified, as Jesse started by loosening his chef’s coat button by button as he twirled, shrugged, and shimmied.

_ Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on _

_ Livin' like a lover with a radar phone _

_ Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp _

_ Demolition woman, can I be your man? _

Hanzo’s mouth was suddenly very dry. He reached with shaky hands for his water, but his eyes were locked on Jesse’s glittering body under the bright lights. The cook finally shrugged off his coat entirely — revealing that he was wearing nothing under it. Instead, Hanzo was greeted with a thick, hairy chest and muscled belly — all of it covered in thick body hair. Several people whistled and cheered.

_ So c'mon, take a bottle, shake it up _

_ Break the bubble, break it up _

Jesse turned around, shaking his hips back and forth to the beat. The pants were standard issue kitchen wear: baggy and loose. Definitely not flattering. Jesse ran his hands over his body as he shimmied back and forth to the song, fingers dragging along the elastic waistband. Teasing.

_ Pour some sugar on me _ __  
_ Ooh, in the name of love _ __  
_ Pour some sugar on me _ __  
_ C'mon, fire me up _ _  
_ __ Pour your sugar on me

Jesse’s pants went flying behind him, ripped off without a thought. Hanzo sputtered and spilled water all over himself as Jesse revealed a tiny pair of cut-off jean shorts — and  _ only  _ jean shorts. The man was still wearing the cowboy boots, damn him. Hanzo was so low in his seat that he was amazed he hadn’t fallen to the floor yet. 

He hurriedly started packing up his laptop and financial papers as Jesse continued his routine, spinning and strutting and rubbing various parts of his body. Hanzo tried not to look at the stage as he jammed everything into his briefcase and snatched up his coat.

He definitely didn’t watch Jesse’s marvelous buttocks shaking back and forth, the shine from the man’s gold sequined boots reflecting off the worn scrap of denim. He  _ absolutely  _ didn’t acknowledge Jesse winking at him from the stage.

_ You got the peaches, I got the cream _

_ Sweet to taste, saccharine _

_ 'Cause I'm hot, say what, sticky sweet _

_ From my head, my head, to my feet _

But unfortunately for Hanzo, it took some time to fight through the crowds of people around the stage watching Jesse’s performance. Where once the corner table had been advantageous, now it meant that Hanzo had an entire floor to navigate, trying his best not to get too close to the people holding drinks or waving bills at the dancers. 

By the time he got to the other end of the building, Jesse’s dance was over and another dancer had taken the stage. This song was something considerably slower, tempering the fiery mood of the previous song. Hanzo glanced back. The stage had been taken by a tall South Asian woman in staggering platform heels performing ridiculous feats of acrobatics to the cheers of everyone in front of her.

Hanzo tried to catch his breath at the foyer. Truth be told, he was ready to leave. He’d sleep in the shop if he had to — he couldn’t stay another second. But before he could get all the way to the door, a familiar voice called out to him.

“Brother!” 

Hanzo glanced back. Genji waved to him from the bar, dangling a key in one hand. 

“Don’t leave yet.”

Hanzo scowled and walked back to the bar, snatching the key out of Genji’s grip. “Why didn’t you give it to me earlier?”

Genji shrugged, grinning. “Thought you could use a little entertainment. You don’t get out much. Besides, you look like you enjoyed yourself.”

“I…” Hanzo fought the flush that was already on his face, trying his best to keep it from going any deeper. “It was very distracting.”

“Good shit, right?” ask a half-dressed Jesse, who was buttoning his chef coat back on next to Genji. He was still only wearing the tiny cut-off jean shorts and cowboy boots. His thighs were incredibly muscled and hairy. Hanzo determinedly stared at Jesse’s face instead. “Shorts’re riding up, though.” 

“How do you not have third degree nipple burns?” Genji asked, nodding at the chef coat. “You should wear something under that.”

“Hey, I keep a change of uniform in the locker room,” Jesse said defensively. “You think I’m gonna cook in my fancy boots and tearaway pants? I ain’t risking getting my stage apparel all greasy. I have a nasty old band shirt that goes under this bad boy when I’m  _ actually  _ working.”

“The coat is...real, then?” Hanzo asked tentatively. He was still doing his best not to stare at Jesse’s long, tan legs. 

Jesse laughed and patted the coat. “Yeah, it’s an old one. I keep thinking I should jazz it up — cut off the sleeves or somethin’-- but apparently the buttoned-up look does it for a lot of folks.”

“Oh,” Hanzo breathed. He turned to Genji, indicating the key in his hand. “Well…”

“Hey, when are you comin’ back?” Jesse suddenly asked. He looked awkward all of a sudden, shifting back and forth in his shimmering gold boots. 

“Uh —” Hanzo swallowed, hesitating. 

“He will be back in two weeks to deliver the arrangements for the party,” Amelie cut in from behind the bar. She turned to Hanzo. “Correct?”

“Yes,” Hanzo confirmed. “I will have an assistant with me then, so I may not be able to stay long.”

“At least long enough for some grub, though?” Jesse said hopefully. 

“Ye-e-e-s…” Hanzo drew out his answer, hesitating again. “Will you be...performing again?”

Jesse barked his laughter. “Oh, nah, that’s just every couple months or so. It’s the only song I know how to dance to. Well —”

“You are  _ not  _ dancing to Honky Tonk Badonkadonk at our garden party,” Amelie said with a curl of her lip. “I refuse to follow your act if you sneak so much as a single fiddle on stage.”

“And miss out on tossing my matching sequined hat to the crowd?” Jesse put a hand over his heart, playing at being wounded. “Have you no appreciation for art, woman?”

Hanzo’s heart jumped into his throat. At once he clutched his bag and coat to his chest, gathered himself, and cleared his throat. 

“I must retire for the evening,” he managed to say with some semblance of dignity. “I will see you all soon. Genji.” He nodded at his brother. “If you steal my key again there will be repercussions.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “He gonna leave horse head in your bed or what?”

Genji rolled his eyes. “More like he won’t feed me for a week. It’s fine, I’ll just eat here.” He leaned on Jesse, pretending to swoon. “ _ You _ still like me, right, Jesse?” 

Genji stared at Hanzo with a sparkling, smug look on his face. 

On the way out to his car, Hanzo sighed. It was going to be a very long two weeks. 

—

In reality, it was a very  _ quick  _ two weeks. Time flew by as Hanzo became quite busy with Gibraltar’s arrangements and accessories. He and Hana were up to their ears in flowers by the day of the party. Both of them had been working furiously to fill the gigantic order.

“You have sauce on your face,” Hanzo said sternly as he began loading a cart with arrangements to take to their refrigerated van. “Have you been eating churrasco again?”

“It’s not my fault the delivery boy is so hot!” Hana said defensively. She tied a ribbon over a bouquet, then tossed her hair back — and quickly wiped at the spot on her chin. “Besides, major victory here, Boss — I got his number.” She smirked, though it was somewhat ruined by the giddy grin that immediately followed. “That’s more than I can say for you and your guy.”

“I do not need his number,” Hanzo said firmly. “I know where to find him. And he knows where to find me.”

“ _ Ugh _ . You are such a fuddy-duddy!” Hana griped. “Just ask him out. You said he danced at you. And he wanted to see you again.”

“He danced at many people, and apparently does it on a regular basis,” Hanzo said — though he could not fight the flush on his face. He turned to his cart of flowers again to hide it. “We will see him today, and you can judge for yourself.”

“Whatever,” Hana said flippantly. “ _ I _ have a date next week, at least. We were gonna go out this weekend, but he said work called him in tonight.”

“More churrasco?”

“Dunno!” Hana frowned. “There was a different delivery guy this time, so maybe he’s covering for someone in the kitchen? He said his dad owns the place.”

“Ah,” Hanzo said sagely. “A man of many talents. You  _ would  _ fall for a man that could feed you unlimited meat.”

“It’s not my fault I like a nice leg of lamb,” Hana said primly. “And speaking of legs —” She waggled her eyebrows. “You haven’t seen the guy, but wow! He skates over here in these tight athletic leggings —”

“I do  _ not  _ need to hear more,” Hanzo said, covering his ears. “Grab the last of the arch. We will need to assemble it on-site.”

“Alright, ya grump.” Hana punched his shoulder good-naturedly. “I can’t wait to see what this place looks like. The floor plan looked awesome.”

—

Hana’s eyes went wide as saucers when they parked outside the club. And no wonder: it was dressed up considerably. A red carpet was rolled out along the path heading up to the steps, lamps lining the path. The pink-haired bouncer — Zarya, as she had finally introduced herself — was wearing an elegant dress that did nothing to disguise her muscles.

“I like your boots,” Hana said with a grin as they passed. Hanzo looked down and had to laugh: despite the formal wear, Zarya was still wearing her ass-kicking steel-toed boots, ready for business. 

Zarya smiled back, then winked at Hanzo. “Your man is to be looking for you,” she said with a chuckle. 

Hanzo fought a blush, pushing past her and fighting the urge to hide his face in the huge arrangement in his arms.

The club was surprisingly quiet when they walked in. Soft music, some kind of blend of jazz and house, played over the speakers at an actually reasonable volume. For once Hanzo did not have to steel himself to shout over the music. 

Indeed, the whole club had a different feel than usual. The booth tables around the main floor— usually bare wood — now had crisp linens on them. The wood floor was polished to a shine. The pole on the main stage had been removed and replaced with two long strands of aerial silks, ready for a performance later in the evening. Hanzo set his arrangement down on the corner of the bar, where he knew it would be adjusted later. 

He looked at Hana, jerking his head over to indicate that she should join them. 

“ _ Hola _ ,” Olivia said coyly when Hana walked up. The barback was wearing much more elegant wear tonight — a slinky plum-colored dress and dangling jewelry that brought attention to her smooth skin and slight curves. “Heya, Hanzo.”

Hana at least had the decency to blush. “Hey,” she all but stuttered out. Hanzo raised his eyebrows in surprise. Well, well. That was something to keep in mind. 

“Greetings,” Hanzo returned. “Are Jack and Gabe in?”

“Upstairs,” Olivia said with a smile. But her smile quickly turned to a smirk. “You sure you don’t wanna find someone else?” 

“Perhaps later,” Hanzo allowed, once more fighting down a flush in his cheeks. “Hana, come.”

Hana followed him through the club, staring around her in wonder the whole time. She looked at the tables, the stages, the DJ booth in its pedestal placement. The high ceilings arched above them, strung with fairy lights, the strobes turned off. 

“It does not usually look like this,” Hanzo said, laughing a bit at Hana’s reaction. “It’s usually much...bolder.”

“It’s so  _ pretty,”  _ Hana said in wonder. “They really re-did the whole interior, huh? It just looks like a house from the outside. Do we have enough to fill this place up?”

Hanzo laughed and led her over to the stairwell. “More than enough. We primarily have the arch around the door, the table arrangements, and the accessories for a few of the servers. You know this, silly girl.”

“Still,” Hana breathed. “You said a strip club — I pictured, I dunno, something grungier.”

“A common misconception,” said a deep voice at the top of the stairs. Hanzo glanced up. Jack stood at the lips of the stairs adjusting silver cufflinks absentmindedly. “We’re more of an...entertainment venue. We like to keep it classy.”

Hana looked back and forth between Hanzo and Jack. “Wow.”

Jack’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You should come back on a regular day. We could always use more help behind the bar—”

“She is happily employed in my service,” Hanzo cut in. “And I cannot afford to lose her.” He glanced back at Hana, who was grinning unashamedly. 

“I’m not even old enough to pour drinks,” Hana added. 

“Are you using child labor?” Gabriel mock-gasped, poking his head out around Jack and gently pushing the man to the side. “Out of the way, you old lump. It’s time to set up.”

“You have all of the arrangements with you?” Jack asked as he and Gabe walked down the stairs. Hanzo and Hana backed up to give them room to exit the narrow flight. 

“In our truck,” Hanzo said, nodding. “We already brought the hairpieces and the bar arrangements. Shall we bring the rest in?”

“Yeah — we can get some of our staff to help you,” Jack added. “The structures for the bigger parts should all be ready for you.” He looked at Hanzo, then at Gabriel with a funny look in his eye. “Jesse’s around here somewhere, right?”

Gabriel laughed, and Hanzo had to pretend he didn’t understand their joke. It seemed like every godforsaken person in this place was out to get him.

Hanzo nodded to both Jack and Gabriel, then guided Hana back to the door. They rolled out  their cart from the truck, covered in small arrangements sitting in squat, square vases. Each table got a small arrangement — but that was only the start. After the small arrangements came the bigger pieces. Every pole and every stage had flowers adorning it in strands, the flowers woven into mesh that could be draped and strung up. 

“Why didn’t they just use fake flowers?” Hana asked as they attached a garland of roses and baby’s breath to the edge of one stage. “Wouldn’t it be cheaper?”

“They are charging $150 a plate for this dinner,” Hanzo informed her. “They wanted an atmosphere to match. The arrangements will be raffled off, as well.”

“Is that why they’re all different?” Hana said, nodding at the variety of bouquets on the tables. “I thought it was weird that some had day lilies and others had roses — and then there was the orchid…”

“Normally I would not allow resale,” Hanzo said as he secured one last tie before he stepped back to survey his work. “But it is for a good cause. The proceeds are going to a breast cancer research foundation.”

“Breast — that’s a joke, right?”

“Not at all,” Hanzo replied, though his lip quirked up at the implied joke. “Two of the dancers here are working on medical degrees. One is specializing in oncology.”

“Jeeze!” Hana reeled in surprise. “They can do all that and still dance?” 

Hanzo shrugged. “Ask them yourself. At least one of them will be here tonight.”

“Wow.” Hana’s eyes went big again. “And I thought balancing  _ my  _ job with school was hard.” 

They were halfway through assembling a floral archway around the front door when Hanzo felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked behind him. It was Angela, this time dressed moderately more modestly. 

“No wings tonight?” Hanzo asked her, quirking a brow. 

Angela laughed and smoothed her dress down. “I’m only here to serve dinner tonight,” she said lightly. “Jesse wants a word with you, when you have a chance.” She winked. “Don’t leave him waiting too long.”

“I see,” Hanzo said. It seemed everyone here was out to embarrass him tonight. “Thank you for your warning.”

“Warning?” Angela scoffed. “I’m  _ ordering  _ you. So you can go and — well, it’s not my business, is it?” 

“It is  _ my  _ business, though!” Sombra called from the bar. “Treat him right, Hanzo! I’m tired of watching him mope!”

“He was  _ moping _ ,” Hana cooed. “Hanzo!!” She looked at him beseechingly. “Go to him.”

“After we finish this,” Hanzo muttered, ducking into his coat to hide the red tinge on his entire face. 

“You look  _ so  _ pretty with the crown,” Hana gushed, grinning at Angela. “The pink really suits you.” 

“Thank you, dear,” Angela beamed. “Did you make this one?”

“No, that was Hanzo. But I made a few of the others,” Hana said. “They’re kind of fiddly, and I’m still learning about how to fill stuff in. I did make the  boutonnières, though. ”

“Aww.” This time it was Angela who cooed. “That is so sweet. Sombra! Make sure she gets something to drink before she goes!”

“I’m only nineteen—” Hana started, but Olivia cut in.

“We  _ do  _ have soda,  _ gatita _ ,” she said, eyes sparkling. “Or a fancy mocktail? You look like you like pretty things.”

Hanzo burst out laughing at Hana’s face, which was going beet red. Angela seemed to notice as well, and she and Hanzo shared a humorous glance.

“Funny, Sombra. Where is Amelie?” he asked her. “Is she not running the bar tonight?”

“She’s upstairs getting ready. She’ll be doing some ballet tonight — something a little bit interpretive, a little bit artsy, y’know. She and Baptiste going to follow Lucio—”

“ _ Lucio is here _ ?” Hana burst out. She gasped, head whipping back and forth between Olivia and Hanzo. “Dreads, ass that could kill a man?”

Angela laughed again, her hand covering her mouth. “That’s the one.”

“Holy shit.” Hana jumped to her feet, craning her head to look around the club. “Where?”

“Upstairs —” Olivia started.

But Hana was already gone, sprinting to the stairs.

Hanzo had no idea what was going on, but it could  _ not  _ be good. He chased after his assistant, leaving the two women behind to watch over the remains of the flower arch. 

“Hana —” He tried calling. He huffed as he stomped up the stairs after her. “Hana, don’t —”

There was a sudden squeal at the top of the stairs. Hanzo froze, panting, but he was too late.

“Oh my god, you look so good!” Hana sounded like she was jumping up and down.

“Woah, hey!” Lucio replied. Hanzo cautiously made his way the rest of the way up the steps. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you danced?” Hana looked delighted, just barely holding herself back from touching every part of Lucio she could. Hanzo couldn’t blame her: the man was wearing an clinging nude ensemble, dancing flats, and naught else but a flower crown. “Oh man, you’re wearing my — I made that!” Hana said, fluttering her hands in front of her face. “Wow, it looks really good on you!”

“Hana,” Lucio tried to cut in. 

“I mean, I knew you were working a lot, but —” 

“ _ Hana _ ,” Lucio cut in again. His eyes twinkled with laughter. “C’mere.” He must not have seen Hanzo creeping up the stairs, because he grabbed Hana by the wrist and pulled her in for a kiss. They parted, Hana laughing nervously, before she pulled Lucio into the men’s dressing room.

They were immediately replaced by a flustered Jesse, who seemed startled to find Hanzo waiting at the top of the stairs.  

“You don’t, uh, wanna go in there,” he said awkwardly, jerking a thumb in the direction of the dressing room.

“I had gathered,” Hanzo said dryly. A sudden bang and a burst of laughter came from behind the door, as if two heavy bodies had just thumped against it. Hanzo eyed it suspiciously, then nodded his head back towards the stairs. “Perhaps we should talk elsewhere?”

“Yeah,” Jesse beamed. “My office should be quiet.”

Hanzo followed Jesse back down the narrow stairs and through the double doors of the kitchen. Immediately to the right was a door that led to a tiny room, barely big enough for the desk that sat in the center of it. Music thumped in the distance, though it was quiet here, and Hanzo’s heart thumped in his throat.

“Sorry it ain’t much,” Jesse said, looking warily at his stacks of order forms and product samples. “It was supposed to be a supply closet. Gabe cleared it out for me.”

“It’s fine,” Hanzo breathed. He noted the gold cowboy boots on the floor in one corner and the matching hat on a hook by the door. Jesse was standing very close — by necessity of course, but Hanzo made no move to grow the distance. 

“Hanzo —”

“Jesse —”

They stopped and laughed quietly. Jesse’s face crinkled with an affectionate smile as looked at Hanzo. His lips looked very soft. He took a tiny step closer. “Yeah?” 

“I want to know you,” Hanzo breathed. “I know I haven’t expressed it as much, but…”

“Can’t say I made a good impression,” Jesse admitted. “But — you’re an interesting fella, Hanzo. I’ve heard too much about you from Genji to  _ not  _ be interested. Come to find you’re so much better in person, and, well…”

Hanzo’s face twisted in a way he wasn’t sure how to categorize. Affection? Embarrassment? 

“I want..”

“Yeah?”

“I want to kiss you.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever had someone say it so prettily,” Jesse said softly. He leaned forward, his hand coming up to rest on Hanzo’s hip.

Hanzo took a deep breath and cupped Jesse’s jaw for one quiet moment, stroking his thumbs through the raspy hair of Jesse’s beard. Jesse’s eyes searched his face, and for a brief second Hanzo could see the minor doubts in Jesse’s eyes, as if he was unsure of how to proceed.

So Hanzo kissed him. 

Slow, soft, sweet. One press of lips, warm breath mingling, mustaches tickling and noses bumping awkwardly. Hanzo pressed one soft kiss to Jesse’s mouth and pulled away, feeling suddenly very vulnerable.

Then Jesse kissed him back. It was a hungrier kind of kiss, though tempered by caution. A peck here, a laugh mumbled between one kiss and the next, until Hanzo’s back was pressed against the door in the dim room and his breath came out in stuttered laughs, giddy relief making him clumsy.

He pulled away at last when a sudden banging on the door pulled him out of the bubble they’d built. Genji’s voice shouted through the wood.

“Jesse! Hanzo! Smooch later! You still have desserts to prep, Chef! And I  _ know  _ you’re still parked in the fire lane, Hanzo!”

Hanzo jumped in for one last kiss before he slipped out the door, a silly grin on his face. 

He ignored all the whistles and cheers from the other employees as he walked out to move his vehicle. 

—

The party went off without a hitch. Guests — from surprisingly well-known businesses in the city proper — showed up dressed to impress and were immediately seated by Angela and Lucio, who hadn’t stopped smiling all night.

Dinner was served, and while all the  _ official  _ seats were sold out, Hana and Hanzo sat in prime positions at the bar to watch the show. Hana clutched a large neon pink drink that was  _ supposed  _ to be a frozen lemonade and grinned giddily at the stage while all manner of performances passed through. She even wolf-whistled when Lucio walked on stage, spinning and jumping in an interpretive dance — to music he’d arranged and produced himself, no less.

“Your boyfriend is a man of many talents,” Hanzo murmured to her as he watched Lucio bend and pose.

Hana beamed at him. “Isn’t he?” She bumped her shoulder into Hanzo’s. “You didn’t make out so bad yourself.”

Jesse showed up exactly once, at the end of the night after dessert had been served. He sat at the bar next to Hanzo, sipping a glass of cold water — and was quick to slip his hand into Hanzo’s. Hanzo felt his face light up as he squeezed the hand back. 

Jesse leaned over to whisper in Hanzo’s ear over the music: “Drinks at my place later?”

“Only if you bring some of that cake,” Hanzo whispered back, eyeing the dark slices of rich mousse cakes on the diner’s tables.

“Oh, he has  _ cake _ ,” Olivia cut in from behind the bar. “But you know that already.”

“ _ Liv _ ,” Jesse said exasperatedly.

“What? It’s objectively a nice ass. Hanzo, take care of it.”

“I promise to take good care of Jesse’s ass,” Hanzo repeated, grinning at his — boyfriend?-- and his friend. 

“C’mon, guys —” Jesse started to protest, but Hanzo stopped him with a quick squeeze of his hand. He turned in his seat to pluck something off the bar. 

When he turned back, Jesse was eyeing him curiously. Hanzo opened the plastic clamshell box and pulled out a small boutonniere, which he tucked into the pocket of Jesse’s chef coat, right next to his sharpies and thermometer. 

“A gift, for you,” Hanzo said, smiling. “I thought it appropriate. Think of it a return for the steak.”

“That was an apology.”

“Then think of it as a thank you for your patience,” Hanzo said. He squeezed Jesse’s hand again, rubbing his thumb over the back of Jesse’s hand. He pressed a kiss to Jesse’s knuckles. “And for your time.”


	2. Bonus: NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set a couple weeks after the events of the first chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is honestly kind of a stand-alone, but I thought I'd include it here for organization's sake. It was originally posted privately about a month ago, but I've edited and added to it so I can share it here!

“Remind me again where we’re going?” Jesse asked as he signaled for a left turn. He glanced over at Hanzo, who was staring intently at his phone.

“A friend’s shop-- Stitch In Time. The ladies’ costumes are ready to be picked up.”

“And...remind me why we’re going to get them  _now?”_

Hanzo answered without looking up from his phone. “Because you like me very much and this is the only free time either of us has had in weeks, so we might as well spend it together running errands.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Jesse sighed as he pulled into Stitch In Time’s parking lot. He squinted at the frilly storefront. “You sure this is the right place?”

Hanzo nodded. “Marjorie is waiting for me. I will try to make it short.”

Jesse followed behind Hanzo towards the little shop, absently grabbing Hanzo’s hand. It was tense for a second before Hanzo twined his fingers with Jesse’s, pulling him towards the door. 

“Hello!” the woman behind the desk greeted them. “Oh, Hanzo!” 

Hanzo immediately dropped Jesse’s hand and ran over to the counter, ducking around to hug his friend. 

“Hello, plum flower,” Hanzo said warmly after he pulled away from the older woman. “I got your message.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to show you, Hanzo! The little stitches. Some of my best work, I think. They’ll look lovely on your girls.”

Jesse looked around the shop while Hanzo was distracted chatting with his elderly friend about tiny clothes. The shop was small and cramped, but homey in a cluttered kind of way. Every shelf and hook up to the low ceilings was packed with miniatures. Furniture, trains, figurines, and hundreds of tiny items of clothing, from lacy ladies’ gowns to civil war uniforms. Jesse tried not to gawk-- or reveal that he found it slightly creepy. He boredly sifted through the plethora of tiny outfits while Hanzo talked. 

He stepped up to the counter next to Hanzo just as Hanzo and Marjorie's gossip seemed to be concluding, placing his hand on the small of Hanzo’s back. Marjorie was rummaging under the counter.

“Everything in order, then?” Jesse asked, fighting the urge to wrap his arm all the way around Hanzo’s waist. “I found a little extra for your order, if you’ll have it.” He showed off a tiny cowboy hat. “Dunno what I’d use it for, but it’s mighty cute.”

That startled a grin out of Hanzo. “I am sure we’ll find a use.”

Marjorie came back with Hanzo’s order. Indeed, even Jesse was impressed by the fine stitch work on the little outfits. It was far above what was on the shelf. Custom had its perks, it seemed. 

Hanzo paid for his purchase-- far more what Jesse would have thought-- and then grabbed Jesse’s hand and pulled him back out the door.

Hanzo’s shoulders finally dropped down from around his ears once he got back in the truck’s cab. He sighed and leaned against the seat back as Jesse headed for Hanzo’s apartment.

“Thank you for running that errand with me,” Hanzo said. He turned and smiled tiredly at Jesse. “I know we have not had much time to ourselves, but Marjorie only opens her shop three days a week, and mostly during hours I am already working.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jesse assured him. “I bet you could make grocery shopping fun. Besides, now I get you all to myself for the afternoon.” He waggled his eyebrows in Hanzo’s direction. “Bet I can entertain you better than those lizards of yours.”

Hanzo fought a blush and punched Jesse’s shoulder softly. “I do not think I could kiss you in front of them if I wanted to.”

Jesse shrugged. “Fine then. Don’t have to do it in front of em. How do you feel about making out like teenagers on your couch?”

Now Hanzo did flush, his cheeks going scarlet. “Very-- good.” He said stiltedly. He snuck glances at Jesse all the way home.

In front of his building, Hanzo made to get out of the car but was stopped by Jesse’s hand on his wrist. Rolling his eyes at Jesse’s pleading look, Hanzo leaned in for a kiss. It quickly became heated, both of them gravitating towards each other-- only to be literally cockblocked by the console in the center of the cab. They both broke down into nervous laughter before finally slipping out of the truck. Hanzo was quick to tug Jesse back to his apartment, one finger hooked on a belt loop. He juggled his keys and his costumes and managed to get them all in the apartment in one piece, shutting the door with an air of finality behind him. 

Jesse obediently followed Hanzo into his bedroom, but Hanzo was  _sure_ he could feel his eyes on his ass the entire way.

Jesse managed to control himself long enough for Hanzo to feed the skinks and put their new costumes away before he grabbed Hanzo’s hips and pulled the him back. He kissed the back of Hanzo’s neck-- right where he knew he was sensitive-- and sighed. Hanzo leaned against him for a second, half-turned to kiss Jesse again...when one of the skinks rustled in its enclosure and Hanzo froze.

“Please, Jesse,” Hanzo said, licking his lips and affecting a scandalized tone. “Not in front of the children.”

“I’ll just have to take you where  _the children_  can’t see, then,” Jesse growled, hefting Hanzo’s considerable mass in the air and hauling him back out to the living room. Hanzo laughed and held on as Jesse manhandled him onto the couch, bouncing on the cushions. He only stopped laughing when Jesse climbed on after him, bracketing Hanzo with his thighs. When at last they sat still, Hanzo smiled once more and pressed a kiss to Jesse’s flannel-covered chest. 

“Thank you,” Hanzo said again. “I know our schedules have not been--”

“Forget the schedules for now,” Jesse said softly. “Let me love on you a bit, yeah?” He leaned down to kiss Hanzo softly. The first brush of his lips was chaste, barely more than a peck. But what Hanzo had lacked in confidence the first time they’d met, he more than made up with enthusiasm now. Hanzo surged up against him, kissing hungrily, his hands drifting down to settle on Jesse’s hips. 

Jesse groaned softly when Hanzo grabbed his ass and  _pulled_ , hauling him even closer, until they were pressed chest-to-chest.

“I have been thinking about this for far too long,” Hanzo admitted as he ducked down to press a kiss to Jesse’s neck. “Your stupid dance that night was--  _somehow_ \-- actually sexy.”

“Hey, I worked hard on that routine,” Jesse said jokingly, though his bravado was cut off with another moan as Hanzo nipped at his jugular. “Ah, fuck, do that again--”

Hanzo found himself feeling unusually brazen as Jesse squirmed in his lap. He bit and sucked at Jesse’s neck and exposed chest like he’d never had a chance to before-- and admittedly, it had been awhile. Between Jesse’s night shifts and Hanzo’s work during the day, they rarely had any time for leisurely pleasure. 

He was cut off from the plush warmth of Jesse’s chest by a pair of hands pushing him away. At Hanzo’s confused look, Jesse grinned lasciviously and climbed off Hanzo’s lap, kneeling on the floor in front of him instead.

“Been waiting a long time for this,” Jesse said, licking his lips. He surged forward to nuzzle against Hanzo’s crotch, mouthing the tented denim with voracious intent. Hanzo breathed shallowly, his hands coming up to catch in Jesse’s thick hair. He was captivated by Jesse’s nose sniffing at him, his mouth so hot and humid even through the denim. When Jesse looked up at him from under long eyelashes, he felt his heart bang away like a drum against his ribs. 

“Oh--” Hanzo gasped. He let his head drop back against the couch, his legs spreading further. He gasped and tried not to squirm when Jesse undid his fly and pulled his cock out, tucking the waistband of his boxers under his balls so that they lay waiting for him.

"I have an idea," Jesse said, his eyes twinkling with dark humor. "I left it in your room, but--"

Catching on immediately, Hanzo kicked Jesse's shoulder with one socked foot and wriggled as if trying to escape, erection be damned.

"If you put that miniature hat on my penis I'm killing you, and then we're breaking up."

Jesse cackled, pressing a smacking kiss to Hanzo's thigh instead. One of his hands reached out blindly to grasp Hanzo's ankle, slinging it over his shoulder again. 

"Fine, alright, no 'yeehaw' jokes. Your loss."

Hanzo groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I can't believe I let you touch me."

Jesse grinned, hands sliding up Hanzo's thighs to settle on his waist. He looked up at Hanzo expectantly, wearing a charmingly lopsided grin below hooded eyes.

"I'm sure I can make it up to you. Let me?" He nuzzled Hanzo's hip, one hand inching closer to the apex of his thighs.

Hanzo sighed, but he dropped his hands down from his face, resting them in Jesse's hair instead. "Well..."

At once he realized just where they were: his living room, where he never so much as sat about in his underwear. Something about the contrast of the wide open space and Jesse nuzzling so warmly against him set Hanzo off. He gulped, ignoring the fact that his cock twitched when Jesse leaned in closer, warm breath washing over him. 

“There we go,” Jesse crooned, leaning in to suck on one of Hanzo’s balls. His tongue laved against his testicles, pulling first one, then the other into his mouth and sucking gently until they were both plump and red. Jesse teased him, mouthing at the base of his cock while one hand stroked him from root to tip, no more than a slow, gentle touch that seemed designed to madden. Jesse looked determine to  _worship_ Hanzo, making small kitten licks at Hanzo's cock as if he merely wanted to sample, and not gorge. 

When he finally, gently pulled back Hanzo’s foreskin and drew the tip of his tongue around the underside of his cockhead, Hanzo thought he would sob if made to wait any longer. He twined his fingers in Jesse’s hair, not sure if he wanted to pull the man away or far, far closer, but Jesse made the decision for him. He closed in, wrapping his mouth around Hanzo’s cock and sucking slowly.

Hanzo wondered briefly how often Jesse got on his knees for people. He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself: he slurped and sucked and dug his tongue into every crevice he could find, chasing when Hanzo stuttered and hunched over, huffing a laugh when Hanzo's pulled-down pants threatened to strangle him. In fact, he seemed elated with all of Hanzo's reactions: every time Hanzo sighed, he hummed his approval; every time Hanzo made a noise, he echoed, encouraging him until Hanzo melted into his couch, hands tangled in Jesse's hair and brain filled with static fuzz. His hands wandered everywhere. They gripped Hanzo's hips or wrapped around his legs-- they tweaked one nipple, a move that surprised Hanzo into a sharp moan.

Hanzo shuddered when Jesse finally pulled off, chasing a line of precum with his tongue, not even stopping when Hanzo yanked on his hair. He ducked back in to suck Hanzo’s cock clean again, looking up at Hanzo's red face once before dropping back down to fill his throat. Hanzo’s toes curled in his shoes; he grit his teeth at the hot, wet suction and did everything he could to commit the moment to memory.

At last, when Hanzo’s knees were drawn up tight around Jesse’s head and his hands were yanking desperately at his hair, Jesse pulled off, jerking Hanzo off with quick pulls of his spit-slick hand. The other came up to play with Hanzo’s balls again, two fingers tucked just behind them, putting pressure on his perineum. 

Hanzo came with a great groan, shuddering and jerking wildly under Jesse’s hands. Hot come splashed across Jesse’s tongue, dribbling down his chin to land in his beard and chest hair. Jesse pressed one last, lingering kiss to Hanzo’s dick before easing Hanzo’s knees open again and pulling himself back onto the couch with shaky legs. 

Hanzo grimaced at Jesse’s use of his overshirt to wipe the mess from his face, but it was worth it to see the besotted gaze searching Hanzo’s own blissed-out mind for answers.

“Come here,” Hanzo breathed shakily, pulling Jesse down to where he’d slumped into the couch cushions. He moaned-- almost whimpered, really-- when he picked up the bitter aftertaste of himself on Jesse’s tongue. There was an almost addicting quality to the level of filth in that knowledge, and something in him desperately wanted to chase it. “Let me--”

Jesse sighed when Hanzo undid his pants, reaching in to fondle his length. “Been waiting for this--”

“Not  _nearly_ as long as I have,” Hanzo assured him. He rolled them quickly so that Jesse had no room to move except further into the couch. Hanzo pressed him into the cushions with a filthy kiss, chasing a drop of cum that had been forgotten under the dip of Jesse’s bottom lip. It no longer mattered that his pants were sagging around his ankles in the middle of his living room, or even that this had been their first serious encounter in weeks. All he wanted was to get his hands on Jesse's body.

Jesse must have been just as eager, because he didn’t last long. Hanzo found that all it really took to wind Jesse up to his breaking point was a well-placed bite against his throat, nipping just under his jaw in a way that apparently scrambled Jesse’s brain. He came with a stuttering groan, gasping quietly as Hanzo worked him through it, petting and soothing and pressing kisses into his shoulder.

They’d barely even gotten undressed.

Later, after showers and dinner, Hanzo lay across Jesse’s lap on the same couch as they watched television together. Something quiet, old, and perfect for mindless cuddling.

“I should relocate the ladies to another room,” Hanzo said, seemingly apropos of nothing. 

"Anywhere in mind?"

Hanzo mulled the thought over. "The living room, or maybe even the shop. Out of the bedroom, at least." 

“Why would you do that?” Jesse asked.

“Well…” Hanzo hesitated. He turned to look up at Jesse’s face, awash in the cool glow of the television. "If you were to...stay over. I would not want an audience.”

Jesse grinned and settled into the couch more deeply, reaching down to twine one of his hands with one of Hanzo’s. "Seems as good a reason for a move as any." He squeezed his hand once, and Hanzo found himself squeezing back. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> To find out more about what I'm up to these days, you can follow me on Tumblr @hhgggx or on Twitter @GoInterrobang.


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